


You Get Me

by ifellforthis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Cas is a little bit of a jerk but he comes around, Chef Castiel (Supernatural), Destiel - Freeform, Emotionally Repressed Dean Winchester, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Minor Character Death, There will be sexy times here, cas/dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2019-10-07 09:34:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17363516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifellforthis/pseuds/ifellforthis
Summary: Celebrity chef Castiel Novak has made something of himself despite leaving his family at a young age. Mechanic and now business owner Dean Winchester is dealing with the death of his father and the arrival of a painful part of his past. When Dean wrecks into Castiel the night of his father's passing, Castiel is ready to exchange information and be done with it. But the humble, embarrassed mechanic that steps out of the truck behind him gets through his guard too quickly. Castiel finds himself sucked into the life of the Winchesters and learning how to live instead of climb. Dean gives up on trying to save everyone and asks for something for himself. Can the two find the next step together?





	1. Crash into You

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first long-form fic and I will update pretty regularly. I love reading Destiel fan fic and wanted to contribute some of my own. I hope you guys enjoy! Leave comments and kudos as you feel is appropriate (;

Castiel Novak started his morning each day with exactly one cup of coffee from his espresso machine in his spotless kitchen. He lets his eyes linger on his Viking stove – an investment at the time, but something he considers absolutely worth it now. He sips and savors, and then slips into his bedroom where he has not one but two separate closets full of clothing he rarely touches. Long ago his agent wrote into a contract that he gets to keep the clothes he wears on set, and now the leftovers of a celebrated chef hang trapped in his home.

Two hours, a workout and a shower later, and Castiel hops into one of the Porsches he is prone to admiring in the quiet of his garage. He’s late again, but he knows the producer would be helpless without him and therefore gives him all the leeway he needs with his schedule. He drums a beat from some pop playlist out on his steering wheel and thinks about his weekend. There had been not one, but two blondes whom he graced with the presence of his company and he smiles affectionately at their memory.  
Kaitlin, the younger one – or maybe Katherine – had seemed doe eyed and fascinated with everything he said. When he whisked her into his restaurant, he could feel how overwhelmed she was by the opportunity. As he fucked her against the back of the couch later that night, he admired his own biceps as they held her petite frame up for the right angle. She had left soon after, flushed and giggly. He knows he won’t call her again, but knows also that she will be grateful for just one night with the man behind _Castiel’s Creations_.

Sarah – the older one – had required a bit more persuasion before coming home. She was an up and comer in the world of celebrity chefs. She’d been at least partially introduced to the finer things in life. But she had yet to see Castiel’s level of wealth. Although she hid it particularly well, the delicate fingers that played with the beading on her jacket had trembled a little nervously as he whisked her around the charity event. He caught her staring at his lean form draped in his custom tux often throughout the night. He was pushing 35 these days, but knew himself without a doubt to be the best looking man in the room. As the champagne flowed Sarah’s defenses had lowered in increments until she was writhing beneath him in the king sized bed of the room that was not his master but would look like one to the girls he brought home on the weekends.

As her plush red lips came into his mind, his head was whipped forward to the steering wheel and a booming thud rang throughout the car. His hands were braced hard enough that he felt his wrists lock painfully with the force of the collision. “Fuck!” He yelled to no one, pulling to the side of the road. It had been a long time since he was in a car crash. Even now it didn’t feel so much as a crash but an assault on his luxury vehicle and his fragile schedule.  
He looked back to see a sheepish man exiting a Ford truck, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment or pain. It was hard to tell which. He huffed in frustration and threw the door open, wheeling around to start his yelling. Large hands came up defensively in front of their owner, his words toppling out before Castiel could get anything in edgewise. 

“I know it’s my fault, but I just really didn’t see the light turn red. It’s been a long day.” Castiel looked at his watch. It was currently 8:30 AM so he doubted the man’s statement. His face must have showed so. “I’ve been up all night. I’m really sorry.”

“I’m super fucking late already, so how about we skip the apologies and you just give me your insurance information.” Castiel bit out in between clenched teeth. The man, handsome with tan arms and an open face, visibly shrank back from his tone, but Castiel couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

“Yeah, sorry.” The man turned around and reached across his seat to open the glove box. He handed over the info without another word. Dean Winchester. He gave a cursory glance to the name and the seeming authenticity of the card, then pulled his phone out to take a quick picture. He realized the man, Dean, was saying something and swept his eyes up to catch the pair of kelly green irises looking back at him. 

“What are you saying?” Castiel asked, a little more directly than he had meant. At the man’s mouth pulling shut tight, he amended, “Sorry – I can’t concentrate on two things at once before 10 AM.”

“Oh, that’s fine.” Dean answered with a chuckle. “I was just saying I’m a mechanic. I can fix that for you. We do body work, too. You can keep the picture of the insurance, obviously, but if you bring it to the shop I’ll fix it for free.”

Castiel gave him a skeptic glance. Usually those kinds of offers were veiled attempts to get away with expired or fake insurance, but he had his name. Maybe a fake name. 

“Show me some ID.” Castiel barked. Dean blinked twice before his lips pulled up in a smirk.

“You certainly don’t look like a cop.” He responded, raking his eyes over Castiel’s designer jeans and white button down he wore with a pair of Frye’s boots. The answer made Castiel realize what he had said and he rolled his eyes in annoyance at Dean’s playful banter.

“No, not a cop. Just want to see if this is really you before I just take your word on getting this fixed.” Dean nodded and pulled out his license from his wallet along with a business card. The man on the ID was younger, obviously less tired than the one standing in front of him. But it was definitely the same man. He nodded and gave it back. He looked at the card. Winchester Auto Body and Repair. So not a mechanic. A business owner. 

The modesty and Dean’s overall compliance with Castiel had led him to feel a little guilty for the immediate anger hurled toward the obviously exhausted man before him. He cleared his throat and made eye contact again, trying to soften his gaze into something a little more like what he would use on a friend. One of the few he had.

“Okay, Dean.”  
“Okay?”  
“Yes, I’ll bring the car in to get it fixed. Should I just call, or?” Dean was still looking at him, as if perhaps he had finally recognized Castiel’s dark hair and trademark blue eyes from the television. Castiel hadn’t realized before then that he was a little annoyed at being treated like just another driver. But as Dean shook his thoughts and came back to the conversation, he realized that to this Ford truck driving, torn jeans and flannel wearing man on I-35, that’s who he was this morning.

“Ya, that’s fine. Really anytime…” He paused, and Castiel realized he was asking for a name. It was such a rare occasion for him to have to give it to someone that doing so made him give a humorless laugh.

“Castiel. Castiel Novak.”  
“Okay, yeah.” Dean seemed to find his name fitting, nodding his head. “Yeah, Cas. Just bring it by whenever. I’ll make sure we get you taken care of.”

Castiel tilted his head, a little unnerved at the level of familiarity being thrown his way. No one gave him nicknames anymore. Deciding he was done with this whole scene, he nodded his head and turned to get back into his vehicle. “Cas!” Was yelled after him so he turned his head to catch whatever it was.

“Again, I’m really sorry.” Castiel didn’t want to say something stupid like, “It’s fine.” Because it wasn’t. He was late now and this was his favorite car. But he also didn’t feel like berating the good looking guy who was obviously having a shitty morning, too. So he just nodded and shut the door. He gave a final look in the mirror to Dean, who stood outside of the truck just watching Castiel. The weight of his gaze was heavy on the back of Castiel’s neck, so he put the car in drive and steeled himself for the lecture he would receive when he got to set. Charlie could only forgive so many minutes.

As the traffic flowed and he pulled into the lot, his mind lingered over the man who had hit him out of nowhere. Kaitlin, or Katherine and Sarah weren’t near his thoughts. Instead he thought about the lithe frame of a man he should definitely hate, but instead felt like an itch beneath his skin. He was going to have to sit on his hands to keep from calling the shop on his first break. He needed to figure Dean Winchester out. He had no idea why really, just only the notion that doing so wouldn’t be easy.


	2. Crash into Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter from Dean's perspective and little background on our other boy. Warning for a minor character death. Leave comments and kudos as you feel moved (;

Dean looked at his dad’s limp body for another moment before the words really sank in. He was dead. John Winchester, the towering figure of masculinity that had ruled his life for so long, was dead. He felt blank all over. Like some story that had been written on his body was now erased and he didn’t know the next words or the next move. His father was dead.

Beside him, Sam sniffed and rubbed an angry hand across his face. They had known this was coming. Known since the doctor had said, “Six months,” and John had sold his house to a developer and left on a trip across the country. Known before then, really. The bottles that had cluttered the floor of their house were as much evidence of the corrosion as John’s reluctant scans and bloodwork. Despite knowing, Dean had thought somehow his dad would go out in the brash, brutal way he had used his words and lived most of his life. Instead, he had withered slowly this last week. Sam had stayed away until Dean called a few hours ago.

“Not for him, Sam. Please come for me.” It was the most emotion either of them had shown in the months since the shop had transferred to Dean’s willing hands. John had been an off limits topic for about two years now – since missing Sam’s wedding – but those final months when the timer turned on had rendered him nonexistent in the shared lives of the grown brothers. It hurt too much. There was too much to unpack and fix in too short a time. They couldn’t fix what thirty years of damage had been done. 

Now they sat in a somber hospital room with nurses quietly letting them mourn their dead father in the bed. But Dean couldn’t find the pain. He couldn’t find the tears or the anger Sam had clearly tapped into when the monitor flat-lined. He was just here.   
He tapped his dad’s cooling hand one last time before nodding to the nice looking brunette holding vigil with the boys while they said their goodbyes. Dean wondered who would have to deal with the body. He guessed it was his job. To plan a funeral. To let other people know so they, too, could acknowledge the passing of John Winchester. In a way he felt it would really just be another wave of mourning meant for his mother, Mary. In the end, the fact that she had loved him was one of John’s few redemptive qualities left.

He and Sam exchanged quiet goodbyes. Sam invited him over to just be together and Dean reluctantly agreed he’d come after a drive. He needed time to let the right emotions come to him. Needed time to be appropriately upset or angry or whatever he was supposed to be having watched a man he loved with his whole heart pass away into oblivion.

He pulled out of the hospital parking lot and onto the frontage road toward the hill country. He was adjusting the radio, trying to find some sort of music that could make the situation feel okay, when he hit the rear bumper of the car in front of him. He glanced at the light that had just turned red while his eyes were on the knob. Of course. The car pulled over and he followed, ready to apologize and do what he needed to. There was not question – he was at fault. He could repair the damage. His dad was dead. Had just died. Was he allowed to say that?

He opened his car door in sync with the Porsche’s front door swinging open and could tell immediately that the driver was ready to tear him a new one. He sighed and put his hands up in front of him. There was no need. He got it.

“I know it’s my fault, but I just really didn’t see the light turn red. It’s been a long day.” The man was his height, slim and well dressed in the Austin casual kind of way where every piece was incredibly expensive but not elaborate in any way. He looked at his watch and then back at Dean, who realized that it was problem morning by now and what he had said just then didn’t make sense. “I’ve been up all night. I’m really sorry.”

“I’m super fucking late already, so how about we skip the apologies and you just give me your insurance information.” Dean was a combination of sleep deprived and surprised by the immediate anger, so he just ducked his head and gave space to the glaring man in front of him. 

“Yeah, sorry.” He pulled the insurance out of the glovebox mechanically, but knew at the end of the day he’d be able to do the work for cheaper than anyone else and that he’d pay for it. So insurance really wasn’t necessary. He vocalized his thoughts as he handed over the piece of paper. 

“What are you saying?” The man with what Dean now saw were bright blue eyes interjected. He looked like he realized he was being an ass before he corrected himself. “Sorry – I can’t concentrate on two things at once before 10 AM.”

“Oh, that’s fine.” Dean thought to himself that maybe the tin man did have a heart and the idea made him chuckle. “I was just saying I’m a mechanic. I can fix that for you. We do body work, too. You can keep the picture of the insurance, obviously, but if you bring it to the shop I’ll fix it for free.”

Blue eyes gave him a look that said he wasn’t so sure about the solution or about Dean himself. But the next words out of his mouth were still a surprise.

“Show me some ID.” Dean balked and then couldn’t help but smile. This guy was kind of hilariously grumpy.

“You certainly don’t look like a cop.” He responded, taking a moment to look up and down the stranger's form. He felt the tips of his ears go red at that. It had been a long time since he had let himself look a man over. Maybe his dad being dead had an immediate effect on his inhibitions and his libido instead of on the other emotional centers of his brain. Blue eyes rolled in exasperation.

“No, not a cop. Just want to see if this is really you before I just take your word on getting this fixed.” Dean nodded and pulled out his license from his wallet along with a business card. He self consciously realized he hadn’t really had a new picture taken for the license in about ten years. And the card would say Winchester Auto. It was his shop now, but it would always feel like that Winchester above the door belonged to John alone. But nothing belonged to John anymore. Because John was dead.

“Okay, Dean.”

“Okay?” The whole thing felt surreal. The normalness of the moment and the bad luck of it all just playing right off the end of the song that had just hit its end in the ICU. Blue eyes looked at him curiously but Dean couldn’t find another place to stare. This moment for some reason was grounding him to the earth that had just a moment ago felt like it was flying away.

“Yes, I’ll bring the car in to get it fixed. Should I just call, or?” Dean did mental scheduling in his head. He supposed everyone would assume he’d want a few days off with his father’s passing but he couldn’t think of anything he’d want less. No, he’d go in tomorrow morning and if this car was there he’d clean up the mess.

“Ya, that’s fine. Really anytime…” Blue eyes probably wasn’t an appropriate term for the man whom you just hit with your car.

“Castiel. Castiel Novak.” The name sounded distantly familiar. But most names in Austin did after thirty years of living there.

“Okay, yeah.” His voice wasn’t as certain as he wanted it to e. “Yeah, Cas. Just bring it by whenever. I’ll make sure we get you taken care of.”

Castiel tilted his head in a cute little movement that contrasted sharply with his terse demeanor. Dean realized he probably also shouldn’t give his victim a nickname. The man seemed to agree and was walking away. “Cas!” He yelled, uncertain why he wanted this moment to last a little longer. Blue eyes turned to meet his gaze, a hand hovering on the inside of the door.

“Again, I’m really sorry.” Cas nodded his head once and closed the door soundly behind him. Dean stood staring at the car turning toward the east side of town. He knew it was time to move now. But he didn’t have the next step planned out at all. Last time he moved without a plan he had hit someone’s car. His dad was dead. What comes after that?

After a few minutes on the side of the road he realized he had to make a decision. So he climbed back into the truck and pointed in the direction of Sam’s house – the only magnetic point he had left on the earth. Blue eyes hovered in the back of his mind as the tires got back on the highway.


	3. Dead Dad, Dead Dad, Dead Dad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel takes his car into Dean and gets a little more than he bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter for the week, so enjoy! Will be updating soon and you may or may not get some romance (;

Cas sat in the chair as Charlie applied a layer of concealer to the bags underneath his eyes. He had complained enough about being a “painted whore” to his producer that she had personally started applying the thin layer of makeup he wore under the stage lights. He added this to the list of reasons he probably owed Charlie his firstborn along with moving to Austin to do this show with him, rescuing him in at least ten uncomfortable run ins with a one night stand at a bar downtown, and decorating the entire bottom floor of his home in West Austin. 

“When did we start getting old Castiel?” She mused as she dabbed a bit of cheek blush on the powder of his cheek.

“Could you please not ask me questions like that when you’re staring intently at my face?” He responded. “You’ll give me a complex.”

“I think Mama Novak already sang that number honey.” She smiled and stepped back from her masterpiece. Castiel snorted and shook his head. She wasn’t wrong. Naomi Novak was a severe woman with features kept sharp by small plastic surgeries and the best skincare on the market. Aging was simply not an option for her youngest son. He felt self-conscious about every frown and laugh line that had started mapping its way across his face. 

“Please call her Mama Novak when you see her next.”

Charlie had been his roommate in college, where she had studied some production degree that Castiel to this day never named properly and he studied at the culinary school down the road. He had left home at the young age of eighteen to pursue his dream of being a chef. Though at the time he had been cut out of the family fortune and excommunicated rather effectively from the Novak name, he now was claimed whenever possible by the New York City family that had once shunned him. 

He had wanted nothing more than to rat out his manipulative mother the first time she casually dropped his name in a press conference, but couldn’t deny that her notoriety in the upper class social circles enjoying his show would only bring him more viewers. He had learned pretty early on that Naomi’s love was utterly conditional. But the affection she showed for him when it suited her was more repulsive than ever now. They were less like family than mutual business partners. Ya, the number had certainly been done.

Today they were making gourmet grilled cheese and Charlie was buoyant as the smells wafted from the ovens in the industrial kitchen behind the set. Castiel had spent years on camera now prepping food that would probably not be eaten by anyone by the time all the shots they needed were taken. But the final product did have to be made at some point, so he had prepped an extra of each for he and Charlie to “taste test” at lunch. 

The duo prided themselves on a show that cooked food “for the people.” Despite his pedigree, Castiel thought himself a down to earth person thanks to the few years he spent in near poverty with Charlie in their late teens and early twenties. If it hadn’t have been for her connections they probably would still be there now. But together they had created an empire of syndicated cooking half hour shows, a few cookbooks and restaurant investments with an incredibly high level of success. He considered her his only family, and she felt similarly beside the inclusion of her long-time girlfriend Gilda. 

When he told her about being in a wreck the morning before, she had marched out to his car to catch him in a lie and instead found a very distinct dent and loose bumper for her trouble. As he described the whole scene with Dean she had developed a dangerous smile and crossed her arms.

“So he was cute.” She guessed. “Like real cute.”

Castiel blanched. The answer of course was yes, but he was tired of getting teased about considering himself 95% straight. He swore to Charlie that the only reason the 5% even existed is because he had moved to the Homosexual Oasis of Texas and some of the gay had rubbed off. But six years and a few heated make-out sessions at Rain later, he knew there was probably something to the whole maybe liking men thing. He was raised too straight laced to be completely comfortable with the whole thing though, so nothing had happened beyond those encounters. 

“Yes, he was a good looking guy.” Castiel shot for casual and ended up landing somewhere around embarrassed and breathy. 

“A good looking mechanic who’s going to fix your car for free?” She pushed.

“Yes. But he’d have to pay for it if it wasn’t free so your point is a little moot.” He knew he had one that one logically, but she still gave a mirthful chuckle.

“Whatever you say boss.” It was a tease she used only when she was trying to annoy him. They knew who called the shots around here. He was just the face.

The same face that now walked into Winchester Auto with a little bit of a blush on his cheeks from the lingering bits of conversation between himself and his best friend. He pretended not to be hopeful to see the stranger again, but he knew he would be lying to himself. Instead he strode toward the front desk with purpose, approaching a petite blonde scowling at the screen before her.

“Can I help you?” She asked without removing her eyes from the monitor.

“I’m here to see Dean.” He said confidently enough. She looked away from the screen and gave him an appraising look before turning her attention back to the task at hand.

“He’s not here.”

“Oh. When will he be back?” Castiel had the baseless fear that Dean in fact had scammed him and was never returning to Austin for the couple hundred dollars worth of damage he had done to Castiel’s Porsche.

“I’m not sure. His dad died.” The statement was thrown out so carelessly that it took Cas a moment to process it. When he did, the question came out much more like he knew Dean than he meant it to.

“When?”

“Two days ago.” She was looking at Cas sadly now, misunderstanding him to have any emotional connection to the situation whatsoever. He put it together quickly that Dean had hit him on the night/morning of his father’s death. And he had been so kind despite that fact. Hadn’t even pulled the dead Dad card even though it would have perfectly appropriate to do so.

“God, Joanna Beth – do you just go shouting my personal business to anyone who approaches?” The voice was much more forceful than it had been the last time Castiel heard it, but he recognized it nonetheless. Dean rushed around the corner with some fury in his eyes before glancing Castiel’s direction with a smattering of red on his sculpted cheeks.

“Look, don’t worry about it. I’m fine.” He said. The girl, Joanna Beth Castiel supposed, snorted inelegantly. Dean elbowed her in the ribs and pointed toward the back office. Wordlessly the two had a heated conversation and she stalked off. Dean scrubbed the back of his neck again, this time Castiel recognized it as embarrassment. “She doesn’t think I’m ready to come back to work yet is all. But I don’t know what else I’d be doing.”

“It’s fine, Dean.” Castiel replied, the name slipping off his tongue with warmth. “You should have told me the other day.”

“Yes, ‘Hi I’m sorry I hit you, my dad just died and I probably shouldn’t be driving.’ Would have definitely won you over.” Dean replied sarcastically and crossed his arms. “You’re a grumpy dude in the morning, Castiel.”

Castiel noticed him slip back into his formal name and found he missed Dean’s nickname. But he got the point. He wouldn’t have known what to do with that information at all. 

“I supposed you’re right.” Dean seemed satisfied enough with his point and nodded his head in the direction of Cas’s car parked outside. Castiel startled a little bit at being pulled back into the reality of the situation but complied anyways. 

Dean squatted down to look at the damage to the bumper, his wrangler jeans rubbing nicely over the swell of his ass. Castiel repeated the words dead dad three times in his head to keep from enjoying the view. After a moment Dean popped up with the same sheepish look on his face.

“Luckily we weren’t going too fast when I hit you, but the bar behind the bumper is damaged and not just the bumper. It’s a little tougher of a fix. But I should be able to do it tonight.” Castiel nodded his head in response. “I’ll give you a loaner car for the night thought.”

“I have more cars at home.” Castiel replied before realizing that this was not the company for that response. He hadn’t been embarrassed of his wealth before ever. But standing here in front of a man who had called himself a mechanic in one of the nicer shops in town filled with cars, he felt self conscious of statements like that. He hesitantly continued, “I just mean I’ll procure a ride home and I won’t need another vehicle tonight.” 

Dean, if anything, seemed amused by Cas’ discomfort rather than annoyed at his hubris. Castiel was grateful and hoped the subject would drop. Instead, Dean replied, “Yeah yeah Richie Rich. I’ll give you a ride home.”

The name of the movie sounded familiar enough to Castiel to know that he was being teased. He gulped in response. Cute mechanic Dean was teasing him and he felt hot in his skin. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Want to,” Dean threw over his shoulder as they headed back to the garage. As the door opened, Castiel felt his heartbeat increase to what could be a dangerous level. Dean was taking him home. And he was maybe too excited about it.


	4. John Winchester is Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean tries to process John's death with Sam and realizes he may be ready to accept some things about himself he hid when his father was around. Cas and Dean meet again at the garage, and Dean gets bolder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I lied. There are other things I could be doing but instead I'm writing this so here you go.

The rest of the day was mostly spent in muddled silence on Sam’s couches in his living room. Dean loved the coziness of his brother’s house. Sarah had covered the room in cozy knit throws and deep seats with cushions of just the right firmness. On every wall there were pictures of Sarah and Sam, Sam and Dean, Sarah and her family, the three of them together. It was a house the breathed home with every inhale/exhale of the changing seasons outside. Dean thought if anywhere could comfort him now, it would be this room.

And that was true until Sam started talking in angry, clipped tones about the funeral. He wanted to cremate Dad and keep the ashes in something. He probably wouldn’t have even agreed to that much if Sarah hadn’t pointed out that someday if the anger faded Sam would be mad at himself for not keeping a small part of his father. Dean cringed at the idea of his dad burning, the idea too close to the way his mother had been taken from them. But he couldn’t find the words to vocalize that fear, so instead he had said:

“But what about the funeral Sammy? What are people supposed to go see?” Sam flinched visibly at the words before his mask contorted in anger.

“What funeral, Dean?” Sam spat. Sarah placed a hand on his forearm to hold him down, knowing this wasn’t going anywhere good.

“We’re giving the man a goddamn funeral.” Dean’s voice was level steel. Certain.

“And who would even come?” Sam had asked, sounding genuinely bewildered by the idea. “Who still put up with him besides you, Dean? Who did he leave behind besides us?”

Dean hadn’t answered. Instead, he had stormed out and driven straight to the liquor store to pick out a bottle of Jack. Sitting on his couch after a fitful nap, he drank the warm whiskey from the bottle and realized his little brother was probably right. Who was left? Who still put up with John’s yelling and bigoted comments and drinking and debt? No one. Even Bobby had called it quits after Sam’s wedding. Said Dean should do the same. But Dean had held onto the idea that the only thing John needed was love. That if he could just be loved a little more he would turn his life around.

And now there was no argument. They had been right. Because John was gone and he had never changed. He had even robbed Dean of his last few months by chasing his dreams straight out of town and leaving Dean with bank note for it all. It had taken him three months of long hours and firing two mechanics to even get the shop back into the black. Meanwhile, John had been traipsing across the country in the Impala that he always said would be Dean’s someday but never was. Yeah, who else had he left behind?  
Dean thought of his dad shriveling away in the hospital bed for the thousandth time that day and put the bottle of Jack in the freezer. He’d never been free enough of John’s grasp to be drunk – always on call for the next shit show brought on by whatever John had cooked up. And now that he didn’t have that man to take care of he didn’t want to become him. So he texted Sam.

>You’re right. We’ll cremate him and spread his ashes off the bridge. I’m sorry.

The response was almost instant.

< I’m sorry, too. We’ll figure it out in the morning. Get some sleep Dean. We love you.

The “we” of Sam and Sarah wasn’t new. It had in fact been going on for six years before the wedding bells ever rang. In the ways that mattered Sarah had freed Sam from John’s opinions. The official “we love you(s)” on cards didn’t come until a couple of years into their relationship, but the effect Sarah had on his baby brother was instantaneous. He had found a reason for not letting John bring him down anymore. Found somebody else to care for and let take care of him in turn. 

Dean tried not to be bitter about it now, alone in his apartment overlooking the edges of Austin. There had been someone once. A mechanic named Benny. John had made sure to voice his opinion quickly and often. “You’re too close to that man, Dean. People will talk.” And if they had, they weren’t wrong. Dean enjoyed sex with women. The mutual give and take was fine. But the first time he had been pushed up against a wall by Benny’s strong arms he knew he wasn’t exactly straight. 

Now he thought of Benny’s beard tickling the bare skin of his jaw. Thought of those strong hands caressing his thighs, wrapping around his hips to pull him closer, closer still. But the enjoyment is gone as soon as it started when he sees Benny’s blue eyes pleading with him to let them be something more than Dean’s dirty little secret. He had left when Dean’s answer was no. Dean still didn’t blame him. He had blamed himself at the time, but kept gnawing on the idea that maybe he was wrong.

Now that John was dead, he found it in himself to blame his father. Found it in himself to think maybe he and Benny could have been a “we” like Sarah and Sam. He ached for that. Ached for a home that was filled by the memories two people created together. By the intermingling of lives that filled a house with the vibrancy of belonging. 

>Love you, too.

Dean turned his phone off then, willing his eyes to close and put the day behind him. It had been unbearably long. He thought of the crash with Castiel and of calling him Cas and basically begging him to stay just another second. Embarrassment turned deep in his gut for the way he acted in front of the handsome man. His eyes were blue, too. But a sharper, deeper blue. Filled with thoughts but not the humor Benny’s had carried around with him. Under different circumstances he may have even asked for the guy’s number. There had been a few trysts here and there since Benny had gone. But John had just died and betraying him wasn’t at the top of his priorities.

A third of a bottle of Jack into the night and some brooding left Dean rethinking his stance on whether or not he was betraying anybody by liking men. Maybe it had been John all along that was betraying Dean for asking him to change. And wasn’t that a thought that weighed about two thousand pounds too much to be considering at the moment? But all the same Cas’s blue eyes swam in front of him anyways. He wondered if the man would actually let Dean fix his car. Dean had the errant thought of asking him out if he showed up. He doubted the guy was gay. He drove a very straight car. But then again, so did Dean. He shook his head and rolled over, thinking as he fell asleep that he was an orphan now. And what does it even mean to be an orphan at 34?  
When he stretched awake the next morning he knew he would be going into the garage at some point. The day rolled out before him endlessly and he couldn’t imagine needing anymore time to just sit and think about the acidic influence John had been these last few years. His anger spun out like a web across his chest and he didn’t know which direction it pointed anymore. The thought made him mobile enough to haul himself to his plush carpet floor and get ready for the day. It was noon and the fact disoriented him. He really need sleep he guessed.

Pulling into the garage he noticed a distinct lack of mechanics around and went to go ask Jo what the hell had happened and where everyone had gone. Instead he walked in on the tail end of her talking to a man with a gravelly voice he recognized immediately.

“I’m not sure. His dad died.” Jo said it so flippantly that Dean flinched away from her words. 

“When?” Castiel sounded unbearably sad and Dean couldn’t place the emotion but was too distracted by his stampede toward the front desk to think about it.

“Two days ago.” Dean caught the look on Castiel’s face as the gears shifted together enough for him to understand what he had somehow found himself in the middle of. He saw the look of compassion on Cas’ face for a split second long enough to feel a yearning in him for that look to be thrown his way, with a hug attached to it.

“God, Joanna Beth – do you just go shouting my personal business to anyone who approaches?” He was more than annoyed that he was blushing from the thought of needing a hug from this strange man, and Joanna’s loose tongue had only made it worse. Castiel looked worried enough that he felt the need to soothe the concern from his piercing blue gaze.

“Look, don’t worry about it. I’m fine.” He said. Jo gave a snort and Dean’s elbow to her ribs was a reflex bred from years of putting up with her shit. He pointed her to the office, trying to make it look like she was getting a timeout instead of wanting to have some alone time with the man whose car he had hid just a little over a day ago. Jo rolled her eyes but stalked away, leaving the men alone. “She doesn’t think I’m ready to come back to work yet is all. But I don’t know what else I’d be doing.”

“It’s fine, Dean.” Dean hadn’t really meant to say any of that, but the warmth in Cas’ voice made it okay that it happened. “You should have told me the other day.”

“Yes, ‘Hi I’m sorry I hit you, my dad just died and I probably shouldn’t be driving.’ Would have definitely won you over.” Dean replied sarcastically and hugged his arms to his chest. He remembered Cas’ casual use of the f bomb more than once and laughed a little at the difference between him and the seemingly concerned man before him now. “You’re a grumpy dude in the morning, Castiel.”

Dean had meant to put Cas at ease by using his full name, not really having meant to give him a pet name in the first five minutes of their acquaintance. Instead, Cas tilted his head again before he spoke.

“I suppose you’re right.” Dean didn’t really have any reply to that, so he decided to move this conversation to the back of Cas’ car. The thought made him think about necking at a drive-in movie or something equally high school worthy and his ears turned red again. He tried to disguise it with an embarrassment at having hit Castiel’s pretty Porsche in the first place.

“Luckily we weren’t going too fast when I hit you, but the bar behind the bumper is damaged and not just the bumper. It’s a little tougher of a fix. But I should be able to do it tonight.” Castiel nodded his head in response. “I’ll give you a loaner car for the night thought.”

“I have more cars at home.” Castiel replied absently, then immediately reddened when he realized he had sounded like a douche. Dean was used to wealth. His shop was in one of the nicer areas of town and his brother was a lawyer graduated from Stanford Law. He didn’t see any reason why Castiel needed to know that though. The embarrassed man hesitantly continued, “I just mean I’ll procure a ride home and I won’t need another vehicle tonight.” 

“Yeah yeah Richie Rich. I’ll give you a ride home.” Dean’s teasing seemed to ease Cas out of his momentary embarrassment and into a different type altogether. Dean looked at how close he had leaned to the stranger and realized he had effortlessly slipped into flirting while offering the attractive man in front of him a ride home.

“You don’t have to do that.” But Cas’ lips were quirking up into an uneasy smile so Dean decided he’d take advantage of his accidental boldness.

“Want to,” Dean tossed casually over his shoulder, a little sway in his hips as he led Castiel back to the shop. Yes, John Winchester was dead. And maybe Dean was ready to take a little happiness from that.


	5. I'm Just Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel make the trip to Cas' place, a home that requires a bit of explanation for its extravagance. Castiel tells Dean who he is and gets an unexpected answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little schmoopy and I like it and I promise there is smut coming up but please fall in love first.

Dean had seemed hesitant as he slid his keys into the ignition of the sleek Chevy Impala parked next to the truck he had hit Castiel with yesterday. Cas hadn’t wanted to make a big deal of it, enamored with the delicate flirtations he and the sexy mechanic had been trading since Dean had bent over Cas’s bumper. And if that wasn’t a hilarious thought Cas didn’t know what was. The chef got the sense that somehow Dean’s hesitancy was connected to his father. Seeing as their knowledge of each other now stretched over the span of thirty minutes, he felt it may be too soon to ask.

But at the same time, the easy familiarity of Dean buzzed between he and Castiel like a low grade electric thrum. The only other person Cas had ever settled into such easy banter with had been Charlie; while he would totally have hit that she had declared pretty quickly she had none interest in guys and that had been a major factor in deciding to have one as a roommate. With that out of the way, Charlie had proceeded to subject him to a Star Wars marathon to “catch him up on culture.” Nearly twenty years later she was till his guru in that area of his life. He was certain his barometer for normal pop references leaned heavily to the geeky side.

Dean tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the music playing low between them as they wound into the hills around Cas’s neighborhood. When they approached the gate leading into his community, Dean’s eyebrows raised up his forehead, but he followed Castiel’s directions through the callbox anyways. When they were through the gate Cas realized he had a clicker in his pocket that would have let them in, but that he had wanted Dean to know how to get back here. Huh.

By the time he was really unpacking that thought they were pulling up to his house on the lake. Dean was very clearly impressed and made a show of hitting Cas on the shoulder and saying, “Good on you, buddy!” The term made Cas a little queasy but he hopefully thought maybe Dean called everyone some form of that word. He seemed the type.

Dean put the car in park and started to climb out before realizing what he was doing. He gave Cas a sheepish smile and sat back down in his seat.

“Sorry, habit I guess.” His ears were bright red and he suddenly found a spot on the dash infinitely fascinating. Castiel couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Dean, would you like to come in? I haven’t had lunch yet.” Dean looked up and Cas could swear he saw a spark of hope catch behind the man’s handsome green eyes. He scrubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw and shook his head ruefully.

“Nah Cas, it’s totally fine. I’m so sorry I accidentally put you on the spot.” His words were sincere and apologetic but Cas found he didn’t really feel like acknowledging them.

“I insist. I’m a great cook.” Cas felt so absurd saying those words out loud that a smile spread across his face without his permission. Dean automatically smiled back but looked like he knew he wasn’t in on the joke.

“What?” He asked earnestly.

“You really have absolutely no idea who I am, do you?” Cas asked genuinely, finding less annoyance with the fact than there had been the day before.

“Are you the Princess of Genovia?” Dean asked with a smirk.

“I’m going to pretend like you didn’t just admit to watching The Princess Diaries.”

“Hey! If you got the reference then you have, too.” Cas held his hands up in placation and climbed out of the car. He bent down into the window to tell Dean to come on one more time. The hesitancy in his movements was obvious, but he dutifully followed Cas’ easy gait up the walkway to the house. 

The foyer to Cas’ home was one of his favorite parts of the design. There were floor to ceiling windows on either side that looked in on a sitting area with comfy bean bags and a few chair with deep seats. The whole place felt like a garden trapped inside glass walls, thrumming with life. This had been the only room on the ground floor he had designed himself. He was so exhausted by the process that he had kicked the rest into Charlie’s willing and capable hands.

“Umm. This is really nice, Cas.” Dean gulped audibly and rubbed his hands on his jeans.

“I’m glad you like it.” Cas moved them into the main area of the house and into the kitchen. The room looked out directly to the lake, more large windows filling the space with the kind of light Castiel needed to cook these days. He had gotten so used to the stage lights of filming that he felt a little blind cooking at night or in an industrial space. It had been awhile since a stranger had come in here, their paths usually diverting in the opposite direction to the downstairs master bedroom. He looked around and tried to see what Dean would see. He approved.

Dean seemed to have shaken himself out of his original shell shock and was climbing onto one of the bar stools that sat along the island spanning the length of the kitchen. They all spun and Dean began to glance at his surroundings in childlike glee. Cas found the movement endearing. 

“Cas.” Dean said seriously enough that the homeowner pulled his head out of his fridge. “I’m thinking we get married and I’ll take the bottom floor, you can have the top floor.”

“What kind of dowry can you provide me?” Cas quipped back, incredibly proud of himself for not outwardly showing how flustered he felt. Dean’s smile grew even wider at being encouraged in his silliness.

“I come with one barely solvent shop and a brother-slash-moose, a heavy dose of emotional baggage, a mediocre singing voice but a bad ass car.” Dean pretended to think for another moment. “And bonus, you don’t have to worry about in-laws.”

The joke landed in the air and Cas wasn’t sure what to do with it. It seemed a little soon for orphan jokes but Dean seemed to be genuinely please that he’d thought of the line. So Castiel opened his mouth to gape like a fish then smacked it together quickly.

“You had me at solvent business owner.” He turned his head back to the fridge, uncertain of himself in this setting. He had never flirted with a man sober before. With Dean it came easy, but he knew he was skirting a line he wasn’t sure if he was ready to tumble over. There had never been this much talking leading up to lips smashing together and hands fumbling over sweaty clothes. But placing Dean in that situation definitely stirred the thrums of arousal in his gut enough for him to feel comfortable testing his limits.

“Seriously Cas, it’s a beautiful place you have here.” Dean was laughing to himself at the bar while Cas gathered the ingredients for a quick zucchini pasta. Then suddenly he wasn’t. Cas turned around at the silence to find Dean missing at the bar. He scanned the area to see Dean standing at a shelf filled with pictures and instinctually felt his cheeks burn bright red. Charlie had put that shelf together as a joke, but Cas couldn’t help but feel proud when he was alone looking over his accomplishments. There were awards and plaques Dean probably wouldn’t know the significance of but pictures he would most definitely be able to place. Cas wordlessly walked up beside Dean to take in his reaction.

“Cas,” Dean breathed and reached out to a picture. When Cas saw which one he was grabbing for a chuckle burst past his lips and then he was outright laughing at a confused Dean who held the frame close to his chest. 

“I’m really sorry. It’s just there’s a picture of me and Michelle Obama literally right next to that one.” Cas wiped at his eyes and pointed to the photo he mentioned. 

“Who even cares about that?” Dean scoffed, looking down affectionately at the photo in his hands. “You know Harrison Ford.”

“Know is a generous word.” Cas soothed, uncertain what to do with Dean’s awe. “I catered an event for him about a decade ago. He’s kind of an ass.”

Dean looked a little bit like Cas had kicked him in the jewels at the reply and turned his back to the shelf full of photos. “Nuh uh. Nope. You are not allowed to tell me anything else about one of my CHILDHOOD HEROES.”  
Cas chuckled and followed Dean back to the kitchen, the moment apparently over. Dean took his seat back with a pout on his face. 

“Catered, huh?” Dean probed as Cas took out a cutting board and started getting food ready. “So, you’re a chef.”

Cas quirked a smile at Dean, fond of him in a pure way in that moment. Indiana Jones was a childhood hero and Dean did not watch the Food Network. Now Cas could say he wasn’t a stranger.

“Yes, I’m a chef.” Cas answered, going for nonchalant.

“A chef who caters for Harrison Ford and knows Michelle Obama.”

“Yes, I did work on her campaign for healthier, more active kiddos in America.”

“Mmhmm. Ya.” Dean was smiling at Cas in rueful way, his eyes saying, cut to the chase. 

“And I have a show.” Dean’s eyebrows raised again.

“I’m guessing not on cable access.” He pointed around the house and out to the lake. Castiel smiled at him and ducked his head back to his work before answering.

“On the Food Network.” The silence stretched on for a few minutes and Castiel grew uncomfortable enough to look up and see what Dean was thinking. He was thoughtful but not tense. His face was tilted as he considered Cas in a way that made Cas all at once want to take his clothes off and hide away.

“I’m sorry,” he said in response to Cas’s questioning look. “That I didn’t know who you were.”

Cas smiled at Dean’s earnestness and shook his head, “It’s rare that somebody doesn’t but it doesn’t mean that I took offense.”

“Okay.” Dean seemed placated by his answer, but gave a reply of his own. “I took care of my brother growing up. Dad he uh.. well he wasn’t well even before he died. So I took care of Sammy.” His eyes had a little shine to them and Castiel didn’t push. “When the Food Network started up, I think it was like the mid-nineties and I was just this teenager figuring out how to feed another teenager. Sometimes we’d get a chance to watch that and I would take notes on all the stuff they said so I could make us something a little better. A little less like I was a big brother making it up as I went along.”

Dean shook his head, seeming to realize he was getting nostalgic with a stranger, but Cas placed an unsure hand on his and hoped that would be enough to get him to keep going.

“Anyways, about ten years ago now Sam met his one and only and stopped needing me so much. It was a good thing. But Dad had never really liked that fru fru stuff anyways, so I stopped needing to watch the shows. Didn’t have anyone to cook for.” And in that last sentence Castiel can hear the longing in Dean’s voice for someone to cook for and all that encompasses. It’s a stirring Cas wasn’t sure he’d ever feel until right now in his kitchen with a good big brother afraid of sharing too much.

“So I guess I was past your time.” Cas answered the silence, taking his hand back and turning the conversation back onto himself. He felt maybe Dean needed the break. Dean smiled at him in a way that said he was right. “I’ve only been on the network five years now.”

“Only.” Dean scoffed. “That’s fucking crazy man. How old are you anyways?”

Castiel pretended to be offended at the question but answered anyways. “35.”

“34.” Dean answered back with a smile. He looked younger than that, but at the same time older. His father must have died young.

“Well I guess in that regard we are compatible then.” Castiel glanced up to wink but found Dean staring at him with hunger in his eyes.

“Ya, Cas, I think we might just be pretty fucking compatible.” He licked his lips and looked at Cas intently, making Cas drag his gaze back to the pot he was pouring the ingredients into.   
He had a feeling if he kept looking up at Dean, they may never eat lunch after all.


	6. Do I Belong Here?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's perspective of finding Cas' home. More background on how he got there.

Dean’s hands shook of their own accord as he went to place the key in the ignition of his dad’s beloved Impala. His Impala now. A gift never bestowed upon him in his father’s lifetime but defaulted to him now by his death. The irony of the first ride he’d take wasn’t lost on him. If anyone could roll in their grave, it would be John Winchester. And he most likely would if he knew how unbearably sexy Dean found the stoic man in his passenger seat to be. 

If Castiel noticed any of Dean’s standoff with a ghost, he didn’t mention it. So Dean took a breath and just got it over with. The familiar sound of the engine roaring to life made a grin crack across Dean’s rugged face. The bandaid was ripped off and it felt like a part of his mourning was behind him now.

Cas directed them to an area of Austin Dean had never had access to but always been curious about. The large gates of The Island swung open as Dean’s Adam’s apple bobbed self consciously. This wasn’t just money. This was never have to work again kind of money. Who the hell was Castiel? And why was he in Dean’s passenger seat? Not wanting to show his discomfort he gave Cas a pat on the shoulder and said something that definitely ended with the word “buddy.” He struck out at seeming comfortable and definitely could have just locked himself in the friend zone. Awesome.

He persevered, lost in calculations of how much each of the houses in the exclusive neighborhood must cost. In the summers he had picked up construction work on days when he wasn’t buried in the engine of a car. Sammy had outgrown all of his clothes at a frightening pace during his last years of adolescence, and Dean never wanted him to feel left out. The grueling seven day work weeks had been worth it when Sam got to rent a real tux for prom and wore a suit to graduation. Dean had definitely not cried when his little brother looked so grown up with his broad shoulders and floppy hair.

Castiel directed him to the drive way of a house that could only be described as modern villa style. Dean looked over the red tiled roof and admired the handiwork he himself had completed on other homes on the other side of the lake. When he undid his belt buckle and reached for the door he finally glanced in Cas’s direction and realized what he had done.

“Sorry, habit I guess.” He could feel the embarrassment creeping up to the tips of his ears and couldn’t make himself match Cas’s light blue gaze. When the rumble of Cas’s chuckle crept over to him, he relaxed minutely. At least the guy wasn’t too creeped out.

“Dean, would you like to come in? I haven’t had lunch yet.” Cas asked confidently, but Dean knew he couldn’t make Cas act on his mistake. 

“Nah Cas, it’s totally fine. I’m so sorry I accidentally put you on the spot.” Cas’ eyebrow quirked up at his response and a knowing smirk crept across his pink lips. Dean could stand to see that smirk a few thousand more times in his life.

“I insist. I’m a great cook.” The smirk spread into a smile that made Cas’s eyes crinkle at the corner.

“What?” Dean asked, feeling like he was missing something.

“You really have absolutely no idea who I am, do you?” The question made Dean feel like the social outcast that he was. His pop knowledge usually extended to television and anything that would make it onto the Today Show that he sometimes maybe watched from the TV’s in the lobby at the shop. But no, Dean couldn’t say that he had allowed himself to be a part of the world in years. He was too busy with work or Sam or taking care of his dad. When he did have time to himself it was usually spent on a stool at The Roadhouse, not exactly a hotbed of current events. 

“Are you the Princess of Genovia?” He joked, hoping Cas would ignore the mini-panic he had sent his new friend into with his question.

“I’m going to pretend like you didn’t just admit to watching The Princess Diaries.” Cas said, making Dean realize he had in fact just made a Mia Thermopolis reference.

“Hey! If you got the reference then you have, too.” Cas conceded the point with a smile and climbed out of the car, obviously expecting Dean to follow suit. He hesitated for a moment but was drawn in by Cas’ seeming certainty about the situation. The large, intricate door opened into an entry room – a fact that was enough to make Dean’s heart beat in his chest He had never been in a home that had devoted so much square feet to just saying welcome. 

The space buzzed with a bright energy fueled by the plants covering almost every space and the floor to ceiling windows that bracketed the sides of the room. The seating was plush and reminded him of the hookah lounges he and Sam sometimes frequented. Except these had no mysterious stains and sat upon an obviously hand woven oriental rug.

“Umm. This is really nice, Cas.” 

“I’m glad you like it.” There was no false modesty to his tone, no head ducking. Dean was drawn in by the easy confidence that he once again felt radiating from the well built man who stood so relaxed in a space so lush and obviously curated by his hands. The room vibrated in tone with all that Dean had come to know about Cas in the few hours they’d known each other. When he was led into the rest of the house he felt a little more prepared for the kind of space he should expect.

Dean could tell Cas was moving further into the house, but couldn’t pull himself from the spot he was rooted in. The wide windows that looked out onto the lake, the crisp whiteness of the room combined with the dark furniture accenting the space, the textiles hung on the walls and casually thrown over couches and chairs that made the open floor plan feel war and homey. If he had designed a dream space for himself, he imagined that the specs would come pretty close to this. He finally looked up to find Cas in a kitchen as carefully crafted as the rest of the space.

“Cas, I’m thinking we get married and I’ll take the bottom floor, you can have the top floor.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth he was amazed by the confidence he had bolstered from knowing this part of Cas. Surely if this home felt so much like a home Dean could see himself in, then he couldn’t be wrong about the compatibility he felt thrumming in his veins in Cas’s proximity.

“What kind of dowry can you provide me?” Cas quipped back, and Dean immediately relaxed at the light tone he had taken in response.

“I come with one barely solvent shop and a brother-slash-moose, a heavy dose of emotional baggage, a mediocre singing voice but a bad ass car.” He hadn’t meant to be so honest, but ow that it was out there he thought he would just go for broke. “And bonus, you don’t have to worry about in-laws.”

Confirming Dean’s suspicions that Castiel was in fact the perfect man, he simply smiled at the incredibly dark joke and barreled on. “You had me at solvent business owner.”

As Cas started assembling a lunch with deft hands, Dean found himself wandering back into the open space of the first floor. He ran his hands over a few of the blank spaces. Smiled along with a large blow-up of a photo of Cas with a red headed girl who was obviously like family if the way they clung to each other was any indication. A Comic Con banner hung in he background and the cute redhead was positively beaming. Cas’ small, satisfied smile made his handsome face jump out of the frame.

He turned the corner and found a bookshelf filled with awards and knew that this was the place for him to find out who Cas really was. He hesitated, afraid that whatever he found would only confirm that he was swinging three or four leagues above his own. But Cas had invited him in. Had given him a flirtatious smile and touched the small of Dean’s back and offered him entrance to a part of himself that Dean could tell not everyone got to see. So he approached the shelf cautiously.

When his eyes alighted on the rugged face of Harrison Ford he felt his jaw drop comically but couldn’t find the will to pick it back up. As the reality of Dean’s sexuality became cemented he realized that maybe hero worship wasn’t the right word for how he had felt about Indiana Jones when he watched in rapt attention as a younger man. And here was Cas, with a casual arm slung around his shoulders. Of course his host chose that moment to come and find him.

“Cas,” Dean said and pointed to the picture he had just been gawking over. To his utter surprise, Cas burst out in a chuckle and then full laughter in response. Dean automatically felt self conscious until sparling blue eyes turned to look up at him with nothing but mirth in them.

“I’m really sorry. It’s just there’s a picture of me and Michelle Obama literally right next to that one.” And okay, ya maybe that would have been a big deal but Dean hadn’t gotten that far yet. 

“Who even cares about that?” Dean joked. “You know Harrison Ford.”

“Know is a generous word. I catered an event for him about a decade ago. He’s kind of an ass.” Dean felt his words like a punch in the gut. He was reminded why he stayed away from the celebrity gossip so accessible these days. He didn’t want to see who else Cas could ruin for him and strode back toward the kitchen.

“Nuh uh. Nope. You are not allowed to tell me anything else about one of my CHILDHOOD HEROES.”

“Catered, huh?” Cas assumed his position back on the other side of the island and Dean remembered the knowing smile he’d received after Cas called himself a ‘pretty good cook.’ “So, you’re a chef.”

“Yes, I’m a chef.” Cas answered, going for nonchalant. Dean wasn’t buying it or letting him get away with it. He suddenly needed to know what he was getting into here.

“A chef who caters for Harrison Ford and knows Michelle Obama.”

“Yes, I did work on her campaign for healthier, more active kiddos in America.” The casual use of the word ‘kiddo’ made Dean smile, but he wasn’t fooled by Cas’ shrug.

“Mmhmm. Ya.” 

“And I have a show.” And there it is, Dean thought. 

“I’m guessing not on cable access.”

“On the Food Network.” At the mention of the Food Network Dean was taken back to a time when there were people for hm to cook for. When the table he set at dinner wasn’t for one. When he didn’t use his kitchen as a place to store the beer and leftovers from the Mexican restaurant down the road. His mood immediately became wistful and nearly painfully nostalgic. A few years ago he wouldn’t have been able to stand in the same room as a Food Network star. Which he was guessing Cas was by the house in which he was about to receive a home cooked meal. He realized the cost of this plate outside of these walls was probably priceless.

“I’m sorry,” he said once he realized Cas was examining him with a worried frown. “That I didn’t know who you were.”

“It’s rare that somebody doesn’t but it doesn’t mean that I took offense.” Again, that easy confidence. That matter of fact acknowledgment of his accomplishments.

“Okay.” Dean felt the ramble before it started coming out of his mouth but couldn’t have stopped it if he tried. “I took care of my brother growing up. Dad he uh.. well he wasn’t well even before he died. So I took care of Sammy.” He probably would never have admitted any of this to anyone else, but Castiel sat across from him with no judgment on his face. If anyone could understand the sentimentality he attached to the simple act of cooking a meal for someone else, it had to be this man in front him. “When the Food Network started up, I think it was like the mid-nineties and I was just this teenager figuring out how to feed another teenager. Sometimes we’d get a chance to watch that and I would take notes on all the stuff they said so I could make us something a little better. A little less like I was a big brother making it up as I went along.”

“Anyways, about ten years ago now Sam met his one and only and stopped needing me so much. It was a good thing. But Dad had never really liked that fru fru stuff anyways, so I stopped needing to watch the shows. Didn’t have anyone to cook for.” Dean smiled at the memory of Sarah walking into Sam’s life as a freshman at UT. Of her easy smile and the way Sam had bent over backwards to impress this girl. He remembered the battle of feelings he went through at losing his little brother to someone else’s affection and the happiness that overtook him every time he saw Sam light up in her presence.

“So I guess I was past your time.” Cas sad, pulling Dean from his thoughts. “I’ve only been on the network five years now.”

“Only.” Dean could feel the urge to run out the door before Cas realized how absurdly ahead of Dean he was in every way. “That’s fucking crazy man. How old are you anyways?”

Castiel gave him a frankly adorable put-upon face that made Dean melt a little “35.”

“34.” Not so far ahead in that regard at least.

“Well I guess in that regard we are compatible then.” And that word made Dean’s heart clench a bit because it had been bouncing around his head since he had walked up to Cas’ poor Porsche. The easy way Dean felt himself drawn into Cas’ orbit. The silence that had wrapped around them like a blanket in the car when Cas sat contentedly listening to Dean’s music. The feeling of home Dean felt as soon as he stepped foot into this place.

“Ya, Cas, I think we might just be pretty fucking compatible.” He felt emboldened by the fact that he had made it through the past twenty minutes. Cas gave Dean a look that could only be described as hungry and Dean knew it had nothing to do with the food he was preparing. Ya, Dean was pretty ready to figure out just how compatible he and this gorgeous man just might be.


	7. Coming Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> first kiss!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS. i AM SO SORRY. I had a relapse of MS over the past several months and writing has been impossible. Thank you so much for being encouraging to me and getting me back writing.

The two had finished a companionably silent lunch and were now wading in the crackling electricity permeating the room. Cas was washing dishes as Dean watched his firm back in the most likely tailored shirt he wore. His stomach ached in a way he thought maybe was behind him until Cas was forced into his life. Every chemical in his body thrummed with a flight or fight instinct that felt delicious compared to the numbness he had known for so long. 

Even mourning John had been more numbness. He had been less than a dad and more of a disappointment for so long that his brain was frozen in the limbo of trying just to process the finality of it all. Part of him was still waiting for the John of yesterday to stumble in from the latest bender, violent or sad or in general not there. Cas so very here and in the flesh compared to the ghost of the man Dean had been mourning for the majority of his life. 

The thought process made him get up from the stool to stand at the back windows. The lake that was really the Colorado River was still except for a boat in the distance. The moment felt like an out of body experience for the man who had grown up in the same city but miles away from the luxe lifestyle surrounding him. His guilt over being here so soon after the tragedy that should be ordering life threatened to pull him away.

Dean’s jump when Cas’ hand ghosted across his shoulder snapped both of them out of the silent reverie they had been in. Cas had watched as the handsome mechanic stood in his back bay window looking like a sculpture carved from the most perfect marble. The spark from moments before was very much still alive as his hand moved to stroke Dean’s shoulder. But when the shell shocked green eyes of his new friend locked onto his, he instinctively understood that Dean was far away from here. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized and withdrew his hand.

In a fit of bravery Dean grabbed Cas’ soft hand in his own and squeezed it. He didn’t know where the day was headed, but he knew he didn’t want to put himself in the “buddy” zone again. 

“Nah, Cas.” He turned to make eye contact with the chef and stroke his calloused thumb across the back of the hand outstretched to him. “I’m sorry. I’m unbelievably unpracticed at this.”

The shy smile that stretched across his tan face was so endearing Cas felt like he might actually melt on the spot. He knew instinctively that he had to take charge of the situation. 

“At men?” He questioned, trying to put his own uncertainty to bed. He didn’t particularly care about the genitalia attached to the person, but a swaggering mechanic like Dean surely had to come with his own issues. The attractive man in front of him let out a low rumble of a chuckle in reply.

“At dating, Cas.” Dean squeezed the fingers laced through his and turned back to the window, needing to give himself a moment to recover from the intense blue gaze bestowing so much attention on him.

“Hmmmm.” Cas mused, mirroring Dean’s quarter turn to the window but never dropped the rough hand in his own. “So you want to date me, huh?”

Cas bumped his shoulder against Dean’s firm bicep to drive the joke home. The hesitancy he found in the man next to him was baffling him. He never did this. His partners were bold, certain and in for the night and nothing more. Two days into knowing Dean Winchester and he was thinking about rewriting the whole book. He was pretty certain he wasn’t going to be taking this upstairs this afternoon and he wasn’t even that disappointed. Holding hands with the unbearably attractive man who had crashed into his car yesterday was somehow fine. Sitting in the silence of the air conditioner and the lake before them was somehow enough. The feeling left him wishing that despite the tragedy Dean was in the middle of, this moment would somehow be enough for the next move he was going to make.

“Dean,” he spoke. The timbre of his growling voice left shivers up and down Dean’s spine. “I’m going to kiss you in about five seconds unless you’re not okay with that. If you aren’t, I suggest you let go of my hand and step away now.”

The words caught Dean by surprise, but his subconscious must have instinctively understood to squeeze Cas’ hand a little harder. He was so uncertain about what his life would look like now. But he was incredibly certain that he desperately wanted this mysterious new man to kiss him. So when Cas turned him he went willingly, dragging his stare from the window to the handsome face he desperately wanted to know.

Cas took his time, hovering just in front of Dean’s lips in case the message didn’t register correctly. When he saw the beginning of hunger in the green gaze across from him, he allowed himself to crash their lips together. It was neither gentle or rough. It was just a meeting of two people that felt cosmic in consequence. Plush lips met chapped lips in a simple kiss. But the spark that flowed from the first contact sent both men hurling towards each other.

Dean’s hands came effortlessly around Cas’ firm neck, winding their way into the unruly hair above his collar. Cas’ hands searched out Dean’s hips and latched on. For all the shyness from before, Dean was pliant and willing. A soft moan of appreciation even escaped as Cas asked for entrance with his tongue and was immediately granted access. The two tongues met strongly but not desperately. There was so much rightness to the moment that neither needed to stake a claim. They wanted each other. For a moment they both were so certain that the kiss that passed between them felt familiar in a way that curled their toes. They found home in the melding of their bodies pressed firmly from shoulder to hip.

Cas was the first to break apart, searching Dean’s movements to make sure he wasn’t being scared away. He found only reluctant happiness in the tall man wrapped around him. In fact, the grin was boyish in a way he had yet to see.

“Well damn.” Dean chuckled, running an idle thumb up into the nape of Cas’ neck.

“I concur.” Cas echoed, laughing his own quiet reply. Dean stared his fill, letting himself soak in the glow of this man’s attention. Surely he would wake up soon. But Cas’ grip was firm on his hip bones. His gaze was sure if not a little worried. Right. Dead dad. We’ve known each other for two days. 

“I would really love to continue what has been the most mind blowing kiss of the decade,” Dean aimed for honest, hoping that Cas would find assurance in it. “But my brother is waiting for me. I guess we have to make.. arrangements.”

The reality of Dean’s world sobered them immediately, but neither let go of the other.

“Right. Things are intense for you right now.” 

“Almost as intense as that kiss.” Dean winked, and good lord Cas may not make it if that wink was applied in the right context. Castiel felt himself blush for what had to be the first time in years.

“Umm, yes. That was quite enjoyable.” Cas had a temporary moment of shyness, looking down at his feet. Dean felt his body dip with the humanity of it. This other worldly celebrity chef was uncertain of Dean’s intentions? God, he would pay to just be in orbit of Castiel. How could the blue eyed creature in front of him not see that?

“Wait, is there like _any _restaurant you like here?” Dean wondered aloud. Cas’ answering laugh let him know that he had made the right choice.__

__“Yes, there are several. I’m not a total snob just because I know Harrison.”_ _

__“Harrison he says,” Dean teased. He took the moment to nip the chapped bottom lip just too close to him to resist. Cas laughed at his own expense, making Dean certain of the next words. “How about I take you to one of those restaurants and we continue this conversation?”_ _

__“That would be agreeable.” The gummy smile that answered Dean filled the room with light. Dean squeezed him tighter and gave him one more chaste kiss._ _

__“I absolutely have to leave right this moment or I will stay here and lay on the lake with you until I die… or you go to work?” He pulled his phone out and tried at keeping the mood playful. “Please put your sexy number into my phone and if you can lower yourself to the point of a second date with a lowly mechanic, I will text you very close to immediately.”_ _

__Cas obeyed the instructions and texted himself Dean’s number in case he chickened out. What the hell was he doing? He felt giddy with the thrill of it. His career had been so firmly in his sights for so long that he had never connected with the idea of the chase. The romantic comedies Charlie had dragged him to had seemed like so much effort. Maybe he was finally starting to understand a bit of it._ _

__“I will allow you to leave now,” he announced as he handed back Dean’s phone._ _

__“Thank you so much kind sir.” Dean replied with an eye roll as he slowly made his way back to the door. Both seemed to understand that making physical contact again would lead to another lingering goodbye, so they abstained from the magnetizing lure of the other._ _

__“Please give me back my car soon, Dean Winchester.” Castiel teased at the door. The blush that crept across the other man’s cheeks was worth the sass. He wanted to see that flush creep further down the freckled column of his strong neck._ _

__“God, Cas.” Dean rubbed at that same neck self consciously. “I’m just so sorry about all of this.”_ _

__"I’m not.” Cas assured, grabbing one last kiss from the cupid bow lips in front of him. He hoped the sincerity of the words was enough to get Dean back in front him soon. The smirk that answered his reply implied that he would in fact see his accidental love interest soon. As he watched Dean’s bow legged gait walk down the path in front of his house, he really couldn’t be held responsible for the wicked thoughts popping into his mind. Dean, seeming to sense it, through a haughty smile over his shoulder before climbing into the car._ _

__As the sleek black muscle car drove down the block, he felt what he guessed other people called butterflies. Anticipation. Hope. He had never wanted more for someone to repeat their visit. Maybe Charlie’s teasing had been closer to the truth than he cared to admit. He let himself linger on his doorstep, his deep smile causing crinkles around his fierce eyes._ _

__Dean stopped at the light to double check that he in fact had Cas’ phone number, unwilling to leave the moment of Cas’ aura yet. When he saw the text Cas had sent himself in his phone, his smile cracked across his face in a way he forgot it could._ _

___Unbearably sexy mechanic Dean Winchester_ __

__

__

____What an unbelievably weird few days it had been. He may have whiplash after all._ _ __


End file.
